


Verführung

by casstayinmyass



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Choking, Daddy Kink, Desk Sex, Doggy Style, F/M, Face Slapping, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Pain Kink, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Roughness, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Smut, Spanking, Strudel - Freeform, Vaginal Sex, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 07:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15068702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: To help the Basterds steal a German map, you’re given the seemingly impossible task to distract the infamous Hans Landa.





	Verführung

**Author's Note:**

> The title means "seduction" ;)

You're all lined up, each waiting for the leader of the group to bark a command at you. Roles are assigned for the upcoming mission, and you're last in line.

"Hold on," you say, "If Bridget's doing that, what the hell am I doing?"

"(y/n)," Raine says, coming over and crossing his arms. "You... have got jus 'bout the worst job of all of us."

You blink, and it starts to dawn on you at all the guys' sympathetic glances down the line. "Seduce Landa?"

"Seduce Landa," Raine nods.

"Seduce the Jew Hunter."

"Seduce the god damn Jew Hunter, that's right."

You run a hand through your hair. "Why can't you do it?"

"I'd love to, I would, but I just don't think I'm his _type_."

You sigh. "This is shit."

"Grade A shit, you bet your lil sweet buns it is. Tell me, what is it we do?"

"We kill Nazis," you scoff, "not fuck them."

"Well in this par-tic-ular instance, fuckin' 'em leads to killin' em. So if we're gonna get those Nazi maps, then you're gonna need to get down and dirty to distract the man with the plan. Just don't let him get your name." You must have an incredibly detesting look on your face, because Raine laughs. "Come on, fake it! Ain't nobody better'n you at that."

"He won't let me," you say, "Haven't you heard the stories? He's too smart. He'll see right through it."

"He's sharp," Raine nods, "But hell, you're sharper. You'll figure somethin' out."

"Do I have to go all the way?"

"You have to go pretty damn far. The longer you take, the better for us."

"Let's hope the colonel knows how to last," Donnie jokes.

"Right," you whisper, and take a deep breath.

\----

Your heart is pounding hard in your chest, legs almost jelly as you walk into the gala. You had been talking yourself through this all night, and sure, you were a skilled conversationalist and a magnificent actress, but could you really take on the famed Jew Hunter's wit with only what's between your legs as a weapon? You'd never even met him before, only heard stories of the big bad Colonel Landa. You could only imagine how horrible he would look, how terrible he would be to speak to. You flatten your tight dress against your stomach, wondering if there would be bullet holes through it by the end of the night, and turn to Raine.

"How do I look?"

"Scrumptious."

"Suits me," you sigh, and straighten your posture, striding through the crowd with a delicate confidence that could garner the attention of any man present. You part company with the Basterds, looking around the room. Either Hans was on his way now and hadn't arrived yet, or he had and you were up shit's creek trying to find him for the rest of the night. You keep your calm, cool, collected persona as you scan the room. You grit your teeth as you think back to the exchange you'd had with Raine on the way here.

_"How am I supposed to identify him?! I don't know what he looks like, you never showed me a fucking picture."_

_"You'll know it's him. I assume he commands a room, so you'll know it's him immediately."_

You pick up a glass of champagne, and just as you're about to take a sip, you notice someone has just entered. He's followed by about four men in uniform, and you strain to see his face.

Your heartbeat picks up as people part for the man.

That's him. That's Landa.

You can barely identify what he looks like from here, but you can tell by his presence alone that it's him.

You set down the champagne, running over your plan again in your mind as you strut with purpose toward the private dining room he's being taken into. You turn to nod over at Raine, who nods back, and just as you're readjusting your gaze, you feel a hand on your arm.

"Fraulein. May I have this dance?" It's an officer, and he's giving you a boorish grin.

"Eh... danke, aber nein," (thank you, but no) you smile, hurrying past him. The man looks angry, but you don't have time to worry about him; you can only play this evening over in your head again and again until--

"Oh!" you clap a hand over your mouth as you open the door on the table of high ranking German officers. "Herr, vergib mir. Es scheint, ich habe das falsche zimmer gefunden!" (Gentleman, forgive me. It seems I have found the wrong room!)

You gaze around, scanning for your target. Another officer looks you up and down, and gives a huff.

"Dir sei vergeben. Lauf jetzt mit." (You're forgiven. Now run along.)

"Jetzt jetzt," you hear a smooth voice say, and you realize it's Landa talking. "Schande, du würdest so unhöflich zu einer dame sein, die ihren weg verloren hat, Lieutenant." (Now now. For shame you would be so rude to a lady who has lost her way, lieutenant.) He turns around, staring at you curiously from his chair. "Du. Bist also hier auf unser kleines abendessen gestoßen, süßes Fraulein." (So. You've happened upon our little dinner here, sweet girl.)

"Ein fehler, Herr Colonel!" (a mistake, Colonel) you insist, already backing out as per your plan. Your mind is going a thousand different directions, but your main focus currently happens to be Landa's distinct features-- button nose, graceful jawline, and eyes like a hawk.

"Ein fehler? Nein. Ansichtssache. Ich nenne es..." he gestures, " _serendipity_." (A mistake? No. A matter of opinion. I call it serendipity). He smiles, and holds out his hand for yours. You almost forget to breathe-- those eyes are captivating, twinkling with a glint of danger but also something distinctly gentle. His lips are turned up in some sort of charming smile, encouraging you to oblige him. You stop your retreat, and extend your hand. He presses surprisingly soft lips to it. "Bitte." He gestures to the chair beside his, and pulls it out for you. You take a seat, and start to wonder if Raine knew just how damn charming this man was!

"Wie auch immer, wie ich schon sagte--" (anyway, as I was saying) the rude lieutenant goes on, but Hans holds up a finger.

"Ich werde ganz unverblümt mit dir reden, Heinrich, weil ich ehrlich gesagt meine geduld genügend geprüft finde. Nichts, was du heute abend gesagt hast, interessiert mich." (I am going to be quite blunt with you, Heinrich, because I frankly find my patience sufficiently tested. Nothing you have said tonight interests me.)

You try to figure out why 'Heinrich' looks so utterly terrified by Landa's unrest-- mm, the intensity of the colonel's gaze is frightening, though.

"-- Jetzt würde ich lieber die geschichte dieses kleinen spatzen hören, wie sie direkt in Hans Landa's nest flog." (Now I would rather, instead, hear this little sparrow's story of how she flew right into Hans Landa's nest.)

His eyes are twinkling, but you can already sense the mistrust in his voice and mannerisms; he's looking at you with a sweet smile, but you read it right away. It's a smile of condescension. It's a smile of warning, daring you to invent the wildest excuse you could come up with. It's a smile that blatantly ignores all you're putting forward with your body. Your brain begins to work on an alternate approach your plan. He's intelligent... the only way to grab his attention now and keep it is if you keep up with him intellectually, which should be no problem at all.

"Herr Colonel, du bist zu schlau für dein eigenes wohl," (you're too smart for your own good) you say, stealing his glass of wine and raising it to your lips. Everyone in the room is stunned by your actions, even Hans himself for a moment. He then rights himself, frowning a little as you set the glass down and go on. "Ich kam heute abend hierher, um jemanden zu finden, der mit mir mithalten konnte. Du sahst aus wie jemand, als ich dir hier direkt gefolgt bin." (I came here tonight to find someone who could keep up with me. You looked like that someone when I followed you right in here.) You wink.

A flicker of that same surprise crosses his face, before he regains his hard stare. "Wenn du mithalten willst, meinst du jemanden, der dein kokettes verhalten widerspiegelt, schlage ich vor, du suchst deine unterhaltung mit meinen männern da draußen." (If by keep up, you mean someone who will mirror your coquettish behaviour, I suggest you seek your entertainment with my men out there.) His condescending smile widens. "Die moral der armee könnte den auftrieb nutzen. (The army's morale could use the boost.)

You keep staring at him as everyone else in the room laughs. "Schlägst du vor, dass deine männer sich mit mir abwechseln, colonel?" (Are you suggesting your men take turns with me, colonel?)

"Du siehst aus wie ein großartiges spielzeug." (You do look like a magnificent toy). He runs his eyes down your body, less affectionately and more as if surveying a product. You decide to take the step and be cheeky.

"Und was, wenn ich sagte, ich möchte heute abend nur mit einem mann spielen?" (And what if I said I only want to play with one man tonight?)

He blinks, and takes his glass back, sipping on it. "Meine Liebste. Eine sache, die du über mich wissen solltest, ist in jedem katz und maus spiel ... Ich bin immer die katze." (My dear. One thing you should know about me is in every cat and mouse game... I am always the cat.)

You smirk a little. "Ohne frage." (I have no doubt.)

He stares at you for a good tense five seconds, before he decides he enjoys your banter. He grins, elevating the mood. "Ein getränk für die dame!" (a drink for the lady!) he calls to the server. You accept it, and avoid the stares of all the officers around the table. The dessert gets served next, and Hans lights a cigarette with elegant hands.

"Würdest du dich um einen?" (Would you care for one?) he asks you, and you take one, nodding in thanks. He lights yours for you, then drags on his, exhaling a plume of smoke.

You smirk, deciding it's time to implement the next step of your plan. You move your foot over to graze against Hans', and he jerks slightly, looking over to you. You smile at him, and venture to place a hand on his thigh. He goes red around the ears a little, before clearing his throat and blaming poor "French" tobacco for his cough.

"Meine Herren, würden sie mich bitte entschuldigen? Ich muss diese junge dame zurück zur party begleiten." (Gentlemen, would you excuse me please? I must escort this young lady back to the party) he says, and you panic a little. Still, you have to go along with it, and get up, cursing your idea with his leg. Maybe he doesn't like being touched! Just your luck... what if he _isn't_ attracted to women? Oh, Aldo should've taken this god damn assignment after all.

As you two get out though, he does not take you back to the party. In fact, he brings you down a hall, back to a small, empty office.

He makes himself comfortable behind his desk, sorting some papers aside then giving his full attention to you. It reminds you a little of someone being sat down by a boss and getting in trouble, but he has that disarming smile still on his face.

"Bitte. Sprich in deiner muttersprache." (Please. Speak in your mother tongue.)

You swallow and frown, feigning ignorance. His smile just gets sweeter.

"You do not need to fear me, Fraulein."

"Ich glaube nicht, dass das stimmt." (I don't think that's true.)

His smile never wavers. "You understood me." You curse your slip up mentally, but he continues easily. "Please, please. Pay me no mind, I tease rough. I insist you get comfortable!"

You finally realize the language charade is useless, and he's insisting, so there's no use pissing him off. You smile back. "You're too hospitable, colonel."

"I know. It is a weakness of mine," he says, getting up to pull a chair for you. "Now, now, now, hm, hm. I must admit, I do not know what to do with you. On one hand, you are a very pretty girl who seems to have set her sights on me. At my age, I should not look a... what's that American expression? Oh yes. A gift horse in the mouth. Is-- is that the way you say it?"

"To my understanding," you manage out.

"--On the _other_ hand, you must appreciate how wary I am of this situation. I am, after all, who I am."

"And what would you do to me if I was a spy?" you ask playfully. Hopefully teasing would downplay the possibility in his mind.

He looks at you with a dead serious expression, eyes glinting like knives, and you begin to get the creeping feeling you know exactly what he would do to you. Then another smile comes out of nowhere. "Another cigarette?" You exhale the tension, and accept his offer as he goes on. "Now. How did an American learn to speak such exquisite German?"

"I'm not American," you lie, maintaining your calm, "I just speak exquisite English."

He's intrigued. "What area are you from, then?"

"Düsseldorf," you reply, and the immediacy of your answer diminishes his suspicion slightly.

"Well. You speak English nicely."

"That's not the only thing I do nicely," you smirk, and he chuckles, sitting back once more. "I must admit _myself_ colonel, I hadn't seen you before tonight."

"No?" he hums, placing his hands in his lap.

"You've shattered my expectations."

"Have I?" he breathes in the smoke you exhale. "And what is the conclusion you've come to?"

You tap your cigarette. "You're not the beast of a man I expected."

"Perhaps not at first appearance," he drawls, and you wonder what he means by that. His eyes train hard on yours. His gaze is intense, but never leaves your eyes. He hasn't even chanced a look down your cleavage yet... maybe this would be harder than you thought.

"And what was your first impression of me?" you ask. He sits forward.

"A nice little appetizer," he says, and you raise an eyebrow.

"And now?"

"And now, I realized we have long since eaten the appetizer. We are most certainly onto dessert now."

You feel yourself relax. He's falling for it. The troubling thing is, you're actually excited to touch him again. Still, he feigns indifference.

"Are you enjoying?" he gestures to your cigarette, and you nod, taking another drag having forgotten about it burning away. "Ah, gut.  I always have the finest shipped out to me to keep in here."

"And you're used to the finer things, aren't you?" you ask, playing with the cigarette between your fingers.

"The finest."

You get up, and walk over to the desk. Hans tenses a little, but you put him at ease with a hand on his shoulder. You look down to see a bulge formed in his uniform pants, and step over him, sitting down in his lap and facing him. He begins to speak, but you simply hush him, taking one last deep drag on your cigarette and then crushing it in an ash tray on the desk. You let the rich smoke curl in your mouth with a snap, and gently lock your lips with his to shotgun the smoke.

He graciously inhales, mouth held open against yours, and exhales out his nose as he moves his tongue between your lips. You begin to kiss him, a hot, wet move of lips, tongue, breath as his hands slide down your back and stop at your hips, grasping there. _He tastes like sweet tobacco and vanilla._ You grind softly down against him, and he lets out a panted moan into the kiss, sounding far more debauched than he would have preferred.

You slide your hands between you both, sliding them down his chest and unbuttoning his jacket with a slow, lazy ease as you continue to make out with him. He can only sit back and watch as you bite your matte red lip, opening up his uniform to smooth the hand through his light chest hair. You can feel his hard cock in his pants, digging into your ass. His gaze flickers down to your lips, hungry for more, but you deny him, instead moving down to his belt buckle where you unfasten it, one... hole... at... a... time.

"Meinn gott," he whispers, "Fuck."

"You curse nicely," you giggle in his ear, and his hands fall lower, going to squeeze your ass to him. His eyes are searching, almost needy. Nothing like they were in the restaurant. You lightly smack his hands away from your ass, and he can't do anything about it-- he's fallen under a sort of spell, hypnotized by your control. Just as he's beginning to lift your skirt and inch toward your panties, the door swings open to an officer waiting.

"Herr colonel. Du wirst benötigt--"

"ICH WERDE DICH GENAU DORT ABSCHIEßEN, WO DU STEHST!" (I will shoot you right where you stand!) Hans yells, and you startle a little as the lieutenant backs away desperately.

"Es tut mir leid! Es tut mir leid, herr Landa--"

 _"Aus!"_ (out!)

You grin against his ear as the door quickly shuts, and you try to nip at his ear and go back to your teasing, but he's tired of the games. He stands up, striding over to the door to lock it, then returns to you, taking off his belt himself and ripping it off.  

Landa grabs your shoulders, flipping you around roughly and shoving you against the desk so that you're bent over and your breasts are flattened firmly into it. The position is painful against your ribs, but that excites you even more.

"Ich werde dich ficken," (I'm going to fuck you), he growls, unzipping his fly, "Would you like that, Fraulein?"

Before you can temper yourself, you moan. "Yes."

"Yes, I'm sure you would." He then tears open the crotch of your stockings and rips off your panties, tossing them away and kicking your legs apart. You groan at his manhandling, and a flicker of worry lights in your stomach.

_You were still faking... weren't you?_

He grips your thighs, so hard that bruises will form later. His fingers trail down your folds, a couple dipping in to test how wet you are. He hums, and you can hear the undeniable pop of him licking his fingers. You then feel the swollen head of his cock enter you, then in one hard push, he's bottomed out inside, dragging out and fucking back in doggy style.

"Take it," he whispers, "My perfect whore, take it."

"Yes," you cry, hitting the desk every time he thrusts in, "Yes!"

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir, Herr Colonel, yes!" you scream, and he fucks you hard, slamming in deeper than any man has ever reached. Your walls flutter around him as your wetness coats him, every thrust sending you further into heat. A slap comes down on your ass. You cry out, and he spanks the other cheek. "Oh--" you sob, and he spanks you again, even harder, causing tears to form in your eyes.

"Can't take it?" he asks in a cruel, mocking tone. "Aw. Pity. I just caught my mouse." He spanks you again, and you bite your fist, a single tear streaming down your cheek. Another. Another. Your ass must be red by now, and with every spank, he seems to be fucking you harder, getting off on your muffled cries. After a few more pounds, he massages a smooth hand into the raw flesh of your sore ass, and strokes you gently.

"Lovely. You took that like a... what's that expression?"

"Like a trooper," you growl, and he snaps, giving a mirthless chuckle.

"Aha! Like a _trooper_." His smile then disappears, and he turns you around, sitting you on the desk and lifting your leg over his shoulder for a new angle. You nearly sob as he slides in again, stretching you so nice around his big cock. The pain has faded now, leaving a dull sting that's just right.

Slam. Slam. The desk moves inch by inch.

"Sir... oh, sir please... bitte, _bitte_ ," you whimper.

"You sound so wondrous begging for me," he rasps, latching his lips onto your neck and working down to mark the top of your bouncing breasts. You attempt a weak smirk.

"Let's not f-forget... you were the one begging for me a few minutes ago..."

He grabs your chin and you grimace, then he smacks your cheek hard, sending you clutching your face. He waits for a moment, surveying your reaction, and you look at him in surprise... then another moan falls from your lips. That wicked grin flashes across his face, and he slaps you again on the other cheek, each sharp sting of pain making you wetter. He then brings his hands down to massage the flesh of your still-raw ass, rolling it around and smacking it, a little lighter this time, as he pounds into you. By now, the desk has moved up against the wall, hitting it with loud thumps.

"Ah... ah... ah..." he gasps, holding your leg and thrusting in. Another slap. Pain mixes with pleasure, you want another, _please_ , another. Slap, he grabs you by the jaw hard. You examine his features, how wrapped up he is in you, and sigh softly. In a moment like this, you could almost forget how horrible a man he is.

He changes his angle once more, and he goes even deeper, beginning to hurt you how rough he's being. He doesn't care. His face is animalistic, teeth gritted in a growl as he continues to fuck you, skin slapping against skin the only sound accompanying both of your gasps and groans. His pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out.

"Landa," you moan, digging your nails into his back, and he reaches down to rub small circles over your bud as you fall backward. He moves his lips down again to suck your neck, grazing his teeth there then wrapping his hands around the spot he marked. You choke a little, Hans tightening his hands until you feel your climax begin to tingle, spreading through your body. “D…d…” you try to say.

“What’s that?” he asks, inclining his head.

“D– oh god, daddy!”

His eyes widen, and he tightens his grip even more as you finally come hard. He lets go of your neck and grabs you, holding you up through your orgasm, and your clenching sends him over the edge as well. He makes sure he's all the way inside of you, as deep as he can go, until he's finished as well, then waits a few seconds for you to completely milk him before pulling out.

"Good girl," he whispers, tapping your pussy with a prim smile, "Right where it belongs." Your cheeks and ass sting pink, and he drags a thumb across your chin, lifting it to meet his eyes. "Had your fun?" he asks breathlessly.

"Ich weiß es nicht," (I don't know) you breathe, eyes hooded, "hast du?" (have you?)

He gives you a small smile, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, letting you down. Your legs wobble a bit. His impeccably combed hair has now fallen into his face in a dishevelled mess, and you're sure you yourself look absolutely wrecked-- you feel it. Then it all starts flooding back to you.

 _Shit._ _Fuck. The timing. Was it enough time? Did the distraction work for the guys to do what they needed to? How long has it even been?_

"What are you thinking?" he asks softly, brushing hair out of your eye. You look up.

"I'm thinking of wearing a very expensive ring on my finger."

He chuckles. "Ah. And who has paid for this extravagant ring, my dear?"

"Someone quite like me-- who only settles for the finest things in life." You smirk, and adjust your skirt down to your mid-thigh again. "I hope I'll be seeing you again, Herr Colonel."

"I trust you will be," he murmurs, watching you closely with what could only be described as yearning. You then walk toward the door before he can stop you.

"Auf wiedersehen." You leave the way you came.

 _Holy shit. That did not just happen. You just had mind blowing sex with Nazi Colonel Hans Landa. The fucking Jew Hunter. And enjoyed it! Like..._ really _enjoyed it._

Hans watches the door swing shut, catching his breath and setting his lips in a firm line. Of course she had been an American spy-- he could differentiate between a native German and a talented American without batting an eye, he wasn't stupid-- but she hadn't taken anything or asked anything of him... shieza, he hadn't even gotten her name. He tries to deduce what her purpose was, working over each point in his mind carefully, but is distracted thinking of her eyes, those lips falling open as she begged for him. It's been far too long since he's had a woman who can handle that much without breaking-- a woman who can handle him. He wants more.

Trying not to have an existential crisis, you walk out as calmly as you can, hair mussed and stockings slightly ripped. Your lipstick is smudged and you're sure your cheeks are beginning to bruise from Landa's force, so you keep your head down until you get outside.

_You definitely pulled that off... but you had never had a man quite like Landa, who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to take it. You want more._

The Basterds are waiting in a jeep for you, and once you're in, you all disappear down a backstreet.

"Look at you!" Donnie whistles. You give him the finger, slipping off your heels and tossing him one. You breathe out, letting your head loll back. That was exhausting-- satisfying, but fucking exhausting.

"Did you do it?" you ask, grimacing as you readjust in your seat.

"Sure did, thanks to you." Donnie squeezes your shoulder gratefully from the back.

"So. Is Landa as small as he looks?" Utivich jeers, obviously still bitter about his German nickname. You huff, trying to hide your blush by letting down your hair.

"Bigger than you," you retort, and the guys all holler. Raine booms with laughter, tossing you a jacket to cover up all your hickies.

"Well, looks like someone enjoyed herself some strudel with cream."

"Fuck you."

"I'll pass, Hansy got there first. Now will someone get this American hero a god damn handkerchief to fix those lips! Looks like Landa likes to get messy."

You try not to smile, but it's unable to hide. You'll never hear the end of this until the war is over.


End file.
